Ichijou has to take a moment once Godai leaves, waving goodbye enthusiastically before revving the engine to his bike and driving off.

Ichijou has to take a moment because he, Kaoru Ichijou of the Nagano police department, had a date with one Godai Yuusuke--”man” of a thousand and still growing talents. Ichijou uses the term “man” loosely, as Godai is anything but human. If the mandibles didn’t give it away then the stubby horns along the bridge of what should be his nose that branch out at the head and the bright lens eyes says a lot more.

The carapace certainly says enough as it is.

People like Godai aren’t uncommon, either. One of Ichijou’s co-workers is quite the enthusiastic german shepherd, dedicated to his job and laughing constantly about how he ended up becoming the policeman stereotype all while his tail was wagging. But Ichijou never really fancied himself to be of the dating persuasion. With humans or with not-humans, romance had never really interested him.

And then waltzed in Godai, nothing but cheer and quirky charm and holding the hand of a lost child as he came into the station.

It only seemed as if Ichijou ran into him more and more after that.

“How was your date?” the german shepherd co-worker asked, ears perked and tail swishing back and forth lazily. A fan was blowing in his direction and one of the station ladies had stopped by to scritch at his ear in that one particularly hard to reach spot. All Ichijou can think of is the rumbling purr (that sounded more like a rather odd buzz but vibrated pleasantly through Ichijou’s palm) Godai made when he had brought his hand up to rub at the joint of his neck and head.

He had felt incredibly fragile despite the thick shell covering his body. It had made Ichijou’s heart throb at the idea that Godai had trusted him so much as to let Ichijou anywhere near such a vulnerable part of him.

“It went well,” Ichijou says, draping his coat over the back of his chair and pulling it out to sit.

His co-worker hums, “Really? I think it went pretty well considering you haven’t stopped smiling since you came in!”

Ichijou’s hand immediately comes up to his mouth, covering it up from his grinning canine friend’s all to observant eyes.

Dogs, Ichijou dryly thinks.

“Oh, Ichijou-san, you have a visitor!” someone calls, just as Godai comes ambling back in.

“Ah, Ichijou-san!” Godai greets, eyes brightening (or it could be the flourescent light reflecting off of the lenses covering sensitive eyes) as he sees Ichijou and walks right on over.

“I thought you went back home?” Ichijou asks, but Godai laughs all warm and pleasant like.

“I forgot something really important.”

Ichijou arches an eyebrow, “And that is?” He doesn’t even know what Godai could have forgotten, considering they both were men of very little needs and wants. That’s why it throws Ichijou off when Godai leans in to press his mandibles against Ichijou’s lips in a facsimile of a kiss. Ichijou’s co-worker howls and some of the other cops in the precinct cheer and whistle, but Ichijou sort of forgets them when Godai pulls away.

“A goodbye kiss, yeah?” and there’s that rumbling purr noise again.

Ichijou sighs, placing his hand on Godai’s shoulder but not pushing him away.

“Time and place, Godai Yuusuke,” Ichijou says, brusquely.

He has to take a moment, because he never would have thought himself here with someone who cares so much for him in the smallest of ways. He supposes there’s always a time to be proven wrong.